


I won't make a list and send it

by chromaberrant



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Cheesy, Christmas Music, Fluff and Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-12 21:13:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28516953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chromaberrant/pseuds/chromaberrant
Summary: Something is troubling Markus before Christmas, and Carl has just the solution for the android who loves him.
Relationships: Markus/Simon (Detroit: Become Human)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 32
Collections: New ERA Discord: Festival of Prompts





	I won't make a list and send it

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SheyShocked](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SheyShocked/gifts).



> i did Not expect to write (checks watch) almost 2k words of the cheesiest fluff i've ever produced, for a pairing i've only cheered on from the sidelines before, but what better time to jump into new things than gifting a fellow creator for a [server](https://discord.gg/eYJ2f8s) event? :D Season's greasons everyone, and thank you for joining our Festival of Prompts, Shey! 💝

Markus was avoiding him.

He was probably thinking it was subtle, but Simon could tell. There was only so much free time the poster boy of the biggest historical event of the century had, and for a year, almost all of it was spent with his boyfriend. When suddenly Markus begged off to run some made-up errand or spend time with Leo Manfred, of all people, the change was glaringly obvious to Simon.

It... hurt, and Simon found himself torn between wanting to confront Markus about it to clear the air and simply savoring what time they did have together. 

A solution to his problem presented itself in a rather unexpected manner a mere week before Christmas. With Markus caught up in the height of preparations for the grand human-android televised celebration, Carl Manfred found himself alone on the day his former caretaker would usually visit — though why he would reach out to Simon for company, the PL600 could not guess.

* * *

"Welcome home, Simon," the security system greeted him at the door to 8941 Lafayette.

"That's new," the android murmured to himself. His relationship to mr Manfred was cordial, but somewhat stiffly polite; for reasons he couldn't place, Simon's pre-programmed ability to act naturally with people in need of caretaking flew out the window with the old artist, despite their mutual close relationships with Markus - or perhaps because of them. Whatever the case, he wasn't expecting to be  _ welcomed home _ into Carl's residence.

He wondered if it would be rude to ask, and stood in the entrance hall awkwardly, trying to consult the electronic door guard on whether he should remove his snow sludge-covered shoes.

He was saved by his host. Carl Manfred came through the door to the living room, wrapped in a warm jacket and eccentric scarf. He smiled at the android. “It’s good to see you, Simon,” he said. "Would you care for a walk?”

“Of course,” Simon agreed. He stepped behind the handles of the wheelchair. “You’ll have to guide me. I don’t know this neighborhood well.”

Carl chuckled. “I’m not feeling that adventurous today. I had Thomas sweep the garden paths of snow. I’m sure you’ll find your way.”

Simon gave a tense smile, quietly glad that Carl couldn’t see how awkward he felt. The old man pulled on a woolen cap that matched his scarf, and they exited onto the driveway.

There indeed was a path cleared of the heavy, wet snow, leading around the property. Simon navigated the uneven stones carefully, content to let Carl break the silence if and when he pleased. Old habit kept his attention on the cadence of raspy breathing, listening for causes for concern, and so he knew immediately Carl was about to speak when he inhaled more deeply, shoulders dropping back a little. However, it was the words that caught him off guard.

“You must be worried about Markus,” Carl said.

“I, uh. Yes, I always worry,” Simon rushed to say, laughing a little in instinctive self-deprecation. “I’m sure he has told you all about how that seems to be my defining trait within the core Jericho group.”

Carl hummed to himself. “So you don’t feel like he’s been avoiding you?” he asked, mirth at the edge of his tone. 

Simon stopped.

Carl laughed, yet had to pause for breath when guffaws turned to a labored cough. “I’m fine, I’m fine,” he said, waving Simon’s concerned hand on his shoulder off. “It’s alright, son.” He took a moment to catch his breath, leaving Simon to mull over being called  _ son. _ Eventually, he sighed, sounding content with himself, and finished his piece. “You don’t need to worry about where his heart is. He’s just getting really worked up about finding a gift for you.”

Simon balked. “Finding a gift?” he repeated, and rounded the wheelchair to face Carl. He sat down on a small stone bench, uncaring for the snow covering it, and leaned forward in agitation. “He has bigger concerns, why would he get so worked up about… giving me something? We don’t even… celebrate Christmas.” He winced, a thought occurring to him. “We androids, the ones who have lived in hiding for years, anyway. There wasn’t time to think about it last year. Did Markus celebrate with you? Before then?”

Carl regarded him with a kind smile that made Simon understand just why the man’s guidance had been so important to Markus. “It’s never been about religion, really,” he explained patiently, “but yes, me and Markus and sometimes a few friends would make a point to gather and exchange gifts every year. He acted like he was only indulging me, but it clearly left an impression.” Carl grinned. “Call me self-absorbed, but it makes an old man feel proud.”

Simon felt tension melt from his shoulders and he smiled back, even as new questions bubbled up in his mind. “That helps, thank you,” he said. “But… should I give him something, as well? I don’t exactly have my own money, and what would he want?... I’m fairly certain he won’t accept it if I simply tell him that the only gift I need is him, happy and at my side.”

Carl’s smile grew, impossibly, and something impish sparked in his eyes. “I might have just the thing.”

* * *

It was December 23rd, and, per Carl’s invitation, Markus and Simon were making their way up the driveway to the Manfred residence for  _ “a quiet evening just to yourselves, before you have to entertain that circus out there,” _ as their host had put it. The pavement was slick with recent rain, threatening to freeze now that the sun had set and the lake wind raked its cold fingers through the city unchecked, but it wasn’t the temperature or threat of slipping that made Simon tremble. He’d wanted to do it himself, and so he practiced with Carl and tested some virtual training programs made by androids for androids — but still the thought of making a spectacle of himself filled him with nerves. Showmanship, displays of artistic finesse; these things were all Markus’ forte, with Simon there to quietly admire at his side, partake in the joy as an observer. Perhaps he was being foolish… But sitting at Carl’s grand piano, hitting the notes and letting his voice ring loud and cheerful in the home of his new family, had brought him a happiness so intense that he finally understood what drove Markus to create, and he wanted to share it with his love. 

“You’ve been here before,” Markus teased him with a nudge of his elbow and a fond smile. “No need to get so anxious now.”

Simon chuckled. “This time of year is just… very strange.” He turned to catch Markus’ eye. They reached out at the same time, and linked their hands just as they came to a stop in front of the door. 

“It is,” Markus admitted. He seemed to reminisce about the whirlwind of activity the last two months had been, a shadow passing behind his eyes, but then something caught his eye and he glanced up. He smiled, broad and carefree and entirely, unfairly too handsome. Simon’s heart skipped a beat. He followed Markus’ gaze to hide the besotted look in his eyes, and spotted the twig of mistletoe hung almost directly above them. 

He couldn’t help but smile, too. “What was it about couples and mistletoe?” he asked coyly. Even after a year, it made him giddy to think of Markus and himself as  _ a couple. _

_ And may we stay this way, _ he thought to himself as Markus laughed and leaned in for a warm kiss. 

It took them some time to part and enter the house to settle in, but eventually they were alone in the living room. Carl gave Simon a wink and a thumbs up behind Markus’ back as he retired to his study upstairs. As the doors clicked shut on the second floor gallery, a weight seemed to settle over Markus; he turned to Simon with the beginning of some kind of confession on his lips, but seemed to falter. The same pinched expression that Simon had learned to associate with the gift conundrum settled over his face. 

Simon simply took his hands. “It’s alright, love,” he said, letting the skinthetic bleed away from his fingers and passing comfort and understanding through the brief interface. “I have something for you.”

Markus began to protest, but Simon silenced him with a peck on his cheek and strode over to the piano, shoulders squared and a giddy smile blooming on his face. He sat down quickly, hoping to outrun the nerves still nipping at him, and jumped right into the first bar of the song Carl had him learn.

“Simon?” Markus asked, coming up to the side of the piano. There was a look in his eyes Simon couldn’t place when he met them — surprise, certainly, but much more than that. Anticipation, to start, and it snapped Simon back to attention. He looked down and focused on the music.

“I… don’t want a lot for Christmas,” he intoned, feeling silly when his voice came out meek and slightly off-key, but excited all the same. “There is just one thing I need. I don’t care about the presents underneath the Christmas tree...”

“Oh, rA9,” he heard Markus whisper. He looked up again, only to see his lover blush furiously.

Now was the time.

“I just want you for my own — more than you could ever know,” Simon sang, louder with each line, looking Markus directly in the eye and feeling himself grin like a maniac; with love, with joy, with amusement at how shoddy his performance was but how absolutely enamored Markus looked with him. “Make my wish come true… all I want for Christmas is you!”

Markus broke down in giggles.

Dread and indignation washed over Simon, making him completely lose track of the keys, but the feelings couldn’t linger in face of Markus’ infectious smile. “You are a gift,” the RK200 said and slid onto the bench next to Simon to kiss him soundly. An interface opened between them, and immediately it brimmed with pure adoration. When they parted, Markus’ eyes positively sparkled with it. “Simon, my love. Did Carl put you up to this?”

“Is that really what matters?” Simon asked. He wrapped his arms around Markus’ waist. “But yes, he told me why you’ve been so distant for a while. You’ve been so hard on yourself about such a small thing, and you really had me worried. I wanted to show you that it’s okay if you don’t get me a material gift.”

Markus rested his head against Simon’s shoulder. “What did I do to deserve you,” he sighed fondly.

“Saved my life a couple times, to start with,” Simon teased. 

Markus laughed. “Worth it,” he shot back. He lifted his head and spoke more seriously, “Thank you, Simon. This is wonderful. Would you… like to play together?”

Simon’s heart raced. “I’d love to,” he said. “But I only know the one song, I should warn you.”

Markus kissed him. “That’s alright,” he replied, laughing. “I got the message. Now I just want to do this with you.” His smile softened, impossibly fond. “You look happy when you’re playing.”

“That’s because it’s all for you.” Simon could feel his face getting hot. “You make me happy. I really just want this — us — to last. As long as possible.”

Markus lifted one of Simon’s hands to kiss his knuckles. “I’d love that,” he said quietly. “And I love you. I’m... so very happy to be with you, too.” He smiled, as charming as only he could be, then straightened and led their hands to the keyboard. 

“Now… where were we?”


End file.
